From familiar to fancy, Baltimore's retail landscape shifts

A friend of mine used to call the grocery store at the Rotunda the "Flirt Giant." And it was true, back when I moved here about 25 years ago: You got the sense people were trolling the aisles there for more than Lean Cuisines.

It was bad enough that over the years the Flirt Giant aged out — if there were still shoppers on the prowl there, they also were probably on walkers. The Rotunda itself was sagging a bit, slowly some of its smaller shops, but as long as the Giant anchored one end and the movie theater the other, the mall seemed to still have a heartbeat.

But then, a week and a half ago, even the Giant left, and it feels like something of a tipping point. Especially when you couple it with the other retail news in Baltimore recently, that J.Crew, Anthropologie and other national chain stores are due to open this summer in Harbor East.

Even if it's part of the natural life cycle of a city, different parts of town ebbing in and out of favor, it's sad to see the Rotunda turning into something of a ghost mall. The promise of redevelopment remains — the latest is that the owners hope to attract a smaller grocer, a much wished-for Trader Joe's, perhaps — but neighbors are wary. They've heard a number of plans over the years for spiffing up the place that have never quite gotten off the ground.

As shiny and pretty as Harbor East is, or maybe because it's so shiny and pretty, I haven't totally warmed up to it yet. Maybe it's the Baltimore in me: I need things to age a little, get worn around the edges some, make sure they're going to stick around for a while, before I commit to a relationship with them.

Plus, the mix of stores and restaurants strikes me as a bit generic — upscale for sure, but no different than you'd find in a similarly monied neighborhood in another city. Retail has become the great signaler of our times; you can tell immediately what kind of neighborhood you're in if you see, for example, a Lululemon store, as you soon will in Harbor East.

My lingering fondness for the Rotunda, I guess, is that it's the anti-Harbor East. Or maybe just a pre-Harbor East.

When I was new in town, I remember going to see a movie there with a friend who lived nearby. We got there early and whiled away the time on a bench outside the theater. Every once in a while, someone she knew would wave or come by to chit-chat. Whether we were or not, it seems like we should have been eating ice cream cones because it had the feel of a village green, except indoors.

"This is the town square of the neighborhood," my friend said.

It did function like that — in one trip, you could pick up groceries and wine, drop off dry cleaning and shoes that needed repair, get a haircut and buy a CD (music or monetary).

Don't get me wrong: It wasn't where you went for the latest "it" bag you saw in Vogue or to dine on something more gourmet than pizza. There was a time when the bookstore that was there seemed to specialize in the latest releases of two years ago. One of the few surviving businesses is a Christian Science reading room.

But that was part of the Rotunda's charm, a certain frumpiness and decided lack of trendiness that was sort of endearing, as if you'd entered an Anne Tyler novel.

Maybe Harbor East is just a modern, more uptown gloss on the Rotunda model. I'm guessing if you live in one of the high-rise apartment buildings there, you do the same circuit, from grocery store to wine shop to dry cleaners to a slice of restorative pizza.

I like going there — gotta love the Whole Foods and wide-bodied seats at the Landmark Theatres — but I still feel like something of an accidental tourist in my own city.

There are probably more restaurants in Harbor East than you know about. Take this visual tour to see how varied your dining options are in the downtown hot spot. Also see: Venue info for restaurants in Harbor East